


𝕖𝕞𝕡𝕥𝕪 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕖

by raliu_424



Category: Just Roll With It (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Gen, HEAVY EPISODE 19 SPOILERS, OH YEAH JRWI SPOILERS, i cried a few times while writing this, i don't know what else to put here i've only ever used ao3 once okay bye, i have no idea what else to put here? i don't do this often, like god this is angst and it hurt to write, minor asphyxiation (like very minor though), oh btw if you come to my ao3 for the irl thing don't read this ahaha it's unrelated, the violence isn't that graphic i don't think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:33:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25411678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raliu_424/pseuds/raliu_424
Summary: An alternate ending to the infamous Episode 19, where Sylnan takes the deal with the creature offering him an escape from death.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 22





	𝕖𝕞𝕡𝕥𝕪 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕖

**Author's Note:**

> JRWI EP 19 SPOILERS FROM HERE ON OUT
> 
> yo so i have absolutely no idea what's going on, i just wrote this because i really like fictional pain and suffering.
> 
> as i publish this, i am on arc 1 episode 23 of jrwi, so sylnan hasn't come back to life or anything like that yet for me (because i'm like 99.9% sure he does let's be honest). i have absolutely no idea what his future of this podcast has in store, so if something remotely like this ever happens (i've stayed decently clear of spoilers) then i will just. cry. idk what happens in the future please don't @ me if i ended up writing something similar to something that happens because i have no clue ok thank you, time for the story now
> 
> also thank you to ty who put up with me rambling about this to him with very little context for way too long

“𝘔𝘮𝘮𝘮, 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥, 𝘩𝘦𝘩𝘦𝘩𝘦𝘩.” 

“𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘸.” 

“𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘬. 𝘓𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦. 𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. . . 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨.” 

“𝘐. . . 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦?” 

“𝘞𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘙𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘢𝘥𝘦. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘦. . . 𝘸𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳. 𝘓𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘦. 𝘞𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘞𝘦'𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘚𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘵, 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘭, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘧. 𝘋𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳? “ 

“𝘐- 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩. . . 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘺 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶?” 

“𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦. 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯, 𝘸𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘶𝘭” 

“𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵- 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸. . .” 

“𝘞𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦, 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘸. 𝘓𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦. 𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘚𝘺𝘭𝘯𝘢𝘯. 𝘔𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦. 𝘉𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘳 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨.” 

“𝘓𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯, 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘐'𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯.” 

“𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘯𝘰 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳. 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰, 𝘸𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘯𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳. 𝘞𝘦'𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦, 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘺, 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘶𝘭, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘺. 𝘏𝘦𝘩𝘦𝘩𝘦𝘩. . .” 

“𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘦? 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘐 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘪𝘧 𝘐 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶?” 

“𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯. 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯.” 

“𝘐. . .” 

“𝘔𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦. 𝘕𝘰𝘸.” 

“𝘍𝘪𝘯𝘦, 𝘐-𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘰 𝘪𝘵. 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦. 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮.” 

“𝘠𝘦𝘴. . . 𝘐’𝘮 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘵.” 

And with that, Sylnan’s eyes flew open, thrust from the cold realm he had been in into the warm, real world. The first thing he noticed was the pain: his chest felt as if it were on fire, with searing pain striking through it, his shirt stained where blood had seeped down. He was light-headed, his breathing was labored, eyesight blurry, and his ears were ringing. In front of him he could make out the blurry outline of Br’aad kneeling over him, along with a stranger to his right. After a moment, Taxi and Velrissa ran up and approached him, standing behind Br’aad. As his sight began to clear up, his hearing did as well. He could now see Br’aad in front of him, much more clearly. Tears were cascading down his face as he sobbed. His mouth was moving, but his words were still lost as Sylnan let his hearing adjust, only gradually becoming audible. 

“. . .nan. Sylnan, Sylnan, s-say something please- you're there, you’re there, aren’t you? Sylnan. . .?” 

“. . . Br’aad?” Sylnan murmured softly. 

“Oh my god,” Vel mumbled. 

The smile on Br’aad’s face had never looked more genuine as he wrapped his arms around Sylnan, holding him tight. Sylnan groaned at the pain it caused, which lead to Br’aad letting go quickly. 

“Sylnan- I- holy shit, okay, well- so basically-” 

“Br’aad,” he interrupted, wincing. “I-I don’t need to know. . . what’s happened. . . just- I need. . . help, and. . .” With that, he slumped forwards into Br’aad’s arms, unconscious. He was still breathing, but he needed medical attention. Vel rushed forwards, as well as the man he didn’t recognize, both of them ready to try and help. 

Sylnan wasn’t dead. And in that moment, that was all that mattered. 

~~~~ 

“. . . we have to find Mountain.” 

“We have no clue where he even is? The last time we saw him-” 

“-was in the sewers. So we’ll start there.” 

“What about Sylnan?” 

“Someone can stay with him. Vel?” 

“Yeah, I’ll do it. It makes sense.” 

“He might need the medical attention. So Br’aad and I-” 

“-should we take Hilltree?” 

“Sure. We’ll take Hilltree and go down to the sewers, and we’ll see if we can find Mountain.” 

“Okay. That sounds good. Do we have everything we need? We could leave now.” 

“Yeah, let’s go ahead and head out. Hilltree?” 

“Eh?” 

“We’re leaving, come on.” 

Sylnan’s eyes opened for the second time, though he was in a much more comfortable situation than the first time. He was lying on his back in his bed in the barracks, tucked into the smooth sheets. Vel was stood at the barracks’ front door, and then turned and proceeded to approach him. He had just missed Taxi, Br’aad and Hilltree leaving. 

“How are you feeling?” she asked, now standing beside him. 

“Where’s Mountain?” he asked, trying to sit up in bed. 

“Don’t.” Vel advised. “Don’t sit up. I did what I could, but you’re in pretty bad shape. You nearly bled out, it’s a miracle you didn’t, really, and one of your lungs was punctured, along with a few broken ribs. You need to rest.” 

Sylnan sighed, beginning to feel the pain in his chest the longer he was awake, and he realized that his upper torso and left arm had both been wrapped tightly in bandages underneath his clothing. “And Mountain?” 

“We don’t. . . we don’t know where he is, at the moment,” Vel explained. “I assume you heard us talking about him.” 

“Yeah,” Sylnan answered. “I hope- I hope he’s okay at least.” 

Vel glanced back at the door. “I’m sure he’ll be fine, he can handle himself well. Just don’t waste your energy worrying. You need to rest, your body is very weak right now, and too much movement might make you start bleeding again” 

“Fine, fine,” Sylnan said, letting himself relax. 

“I’m going upstairs, just yell for me if you need something,” she said. Sylnan nodded in response and watched as Vel ascended the stairs, the boards creaking as she reached the top. She crossed the second story and sat down somewhere upstairs. 

𝘚𝘰. . . 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦.

“Ah, it’s you,” Sylnan mumbled in response to the voice. 

“So what do I do now? I thought you said we would ‘be one’ and all that? Shouldn’t I. . . not be hearing you or something?” 

𝘎𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦, 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥. 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺. 𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘸. . . 𝘐’𝘮 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘺.

“And I’m confined in bed. Looks like we’re both uncomfortable,” Sylnan muttered. “Live with it.” 

𝘕𝘰, 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘦𝘦, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘴. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘵. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭. 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘐 𝘢𝘴𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Sylnan asked quietly. “You can’t exactly. . . you can’t affect me anymore, right? You said there’d be no more take-overs, nothing like that. What are you going to do?” 

𝘗𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘦.

“What does- what does that mean?” 

𝘐𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘴. 𝘗𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘦. 𝘐 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘢𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘪𝘧 𝘐 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘐’𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘣𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘣𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘥𝘰 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘺, 𝘴𝘰 𝘐 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴. 𝘈𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘭, 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘥, 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭. 𝘞𝘦’𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘸. 𝘞𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘯𝘴. 𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘵.

“So what are you gonna do, make me kill-” Sylnan’s voice stopped as he realized the truth in what he asked. 

𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘥𝘰 𝘪𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘦𝘴! 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘵. 𝘕𝘰𝘸, 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘐 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦: 𝘐’𝘮 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘺.

“If I get up, I’ll probably end up bleeding out. I doubt either of us want that,” Sylnan reasoned, keeping his voice low, trying to find excuses that weren’t just ‘I don’t want to.’ He was starting to regret the decision he made. As much as he wanted to not-die, he also didn’t want to bring the fate he so narrowly escaped onto someone else. He had rushed into his decision, panicking as he made it, and not properly considered the consequences. 

𝘖𝘩, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘶𝘱.

Sylnan felt a searing pain in his forehead, as if the pain of a migraine had all been compressed into one singular needle-sized point. He hesitantly pulled himself up in bed, groaning slightly as he felt a sort of piercing pressure in his chest. The longer he sat there, the longer he felt the almost overwhelming urge that was coming over him. The urge to go upstairs. 

“That isn’t. . . that isn’t me wanting that,” he reassured himself as he carefully swung his legs over the side of the bed, gently pulling himself to his feet. He felt off-balance, as if he wasn’t in his own body. 

𝘓𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥.

To his left, sat on the nightstand next to his bed, was his hat and dagger. 

𝘛𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵.

“No. . .” Sylnan mumbled softly. “No, don’t-” 

𝘛𝘢𝘬𝘦. 𝘐𝘵.

He reached over and took the dagger from the nightstand, slipping it into the back of his belt, hidden from the view of anyone looking at him from the front. 

𝘕𝘰𝘸 𝘨𝘰 𝘰𝘯.

His chest and head ached as he begrudgingly stepped forwards, approaching the bottom of the stairs. He stood there for a moment, still, looking up them uncertainly. 

“I don’t want to do this,” he whispered to himself quietly. 

𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘥𝘰.

Sylnan carefully climbed the steps, steadying himself by grasping the rails tightly. At his slow pace, the wood hardly made noise as he continued upwards. After a few moments of muffled struggles, he reached the top, entering the room upstairs. Velrissa, he noticed, was sitting at the bar, a cup of water sat in front of her as she seemed to tap her fingers impatiently. She glanced his way and looked back down before doing a double take and standing up, facing Sylnan. 

“Sylnan, what are you doing up here? I barely heard you come in. . . you need to stay in bed, standing can’t be doing you much good,” She advised, beginning to approach him to help him stay upright. “I told you to yell for me if you needed something, what are you doing?” 

Sylnan shook his head no, unsure of what to say. He didn’t want to be there, he didn’t want to do what the voice was luring him into. 

“. . . is everything alright?” she asked uncertainly. Sylnan’s gaze seemed conflicted, almost blank as he stared forwards. “Sylnan?” 

𝘈𝘤𝘵 𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘭.

Sylnan’s eyes shifted up from where they had been fixed on the floor and seemed to come back to reality, looking around uncertainly. “Yeah I-I'm fine, sorry Vel, just. . . couldn’t stay in bed any longer.” 

“You need to lie down,” she sighed. “While you’re sitting up, do you need some water or something?” 

“I- sure,” Sylnan answered. “Water’s fine.” 

“Here, come sit,” Vel insisted. She helped him over to a seat at the bar and then stepped behind the counter, pulling out a glass from underneath it and pouring water from the pitcher that was on the counter into it. 

𝘕𝘰𝘸. . . 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘵.

“No,” Sylnan muttered blatantly. 

“What?” Vel said, looking up. She slid the glass forwards. 

“No, it’s. . . it’s nothing, sorry,” Sylnan explained, taking the glass and sipping from it. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Vel inquired, looking at Sylnan, puzzled. 

“Yeah, I-I'm fine,” he reassured. 

𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘥𝘰 𝘪𝘵, 𝘐’𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘰 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧.

“𝘞𝘢𝘪𝘵, 𝘯𝘰,” Sylnan thought to himself. “𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯’𝘵 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵- 𝘯𝘰, 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦-”

Sylnan started feeling the pain return to his head, but as he resisted, his vision started to go blurry. He watched as he stood from the bar. . . only, he didn’t. His body was standing, but he hadn’t moved, not voluntarily. He glanced downwards to see that the purple veins that ran up and down his left arm seemed to have taken on a glowing light, the bright purple almost pulsating with something evil. 

“Sylnan?” Vel asked, cautiously moving away. She stepped out from behind the bar and backed up closer to the corner of the room. “Sylnan, what’s going on-?” 

“Just- just stay back,” he stuttered. “I don’t- I don’t know what this is, it’s-” 

He took a step forwards, closer to Vel. He tried to open his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. She didn’t have any of her weapons on her, but she still was capable of beating him in combat in a heartbeat. 

“Vel, I need help. . .” his voice said softly, only it wasn’t Sylnan speaking. He couldn’t move anymore, not willingly. That thing was in control now. 

Vel took a step closer to Sylnan. “What’s going on?” she asked, her voice clearly showing her caution. “Whatever this is, I can help you. You just have to tell me what it is.” 

“𝘋𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘋𝘰𝘯’𝘵- 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘴𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥,” Sylnan thought to himself. He heard no response from the voice. 

“Sylnan?” she asked again, closer now. She cautiously placed her right hand on his shoulder, as if she was reassuring him that everything was alright. 

“Vel. . .” he said, again not on his own accord. His eyes closed for a second, squeezed tight before opening again. His vision was different now. It was still fuzzy, but everything had been overcome by a purple tint. 

“𝘋𝘰𝘯’𝘵, 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘥𝘰 𝘪𝘵, 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦, 𝘐’𝘮 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵-” His own thoughts became desperate as he pleaded, but again they were met with no response. 

In a flash, much faster than he should have been able to move in his current state, he reached to the back of his belt, pulled out the dagger hidden there, and thrust it forwards, jabbing it into Vel’s chest. She gasped, her eyes wide, partly in shock and partly in pain. Her grip on Sylnan’s shoulder tightened as she swayed, her balance put off. 

She locked eyes with him, trembling. “How. . . how could you?” Her words sounded strangled. The emotionless purple of his eyes stared back. 

The creature twisted the blade for good measure before pulling it out. She fell forwards, and he held her only for a moment before letting go. Even so, blood ran onto his hands, it’s sticky crimson almost taunting as Sylnan watched in horror, unable to have done anything to stop it. 

And just like that, it was over. She crumpled to the floor, blood seeping through her shirt. 

Sylnan’s heart pounded as he stood over the body, the malicious purple glare of his eyes fading back to their usual calm hazel, though his face expressed any feeling but. 

“Oh gods. . . holy shit, what have I-” he felt tears well up in his eyes as he stepped back, horrified by his own actions. He dropped the blade clenched so tightly in his hand, letting it clatter to the ground, and found he could only stare. Stare at the crimson blood that ran across the floor, stare at Vel’s lifeless form. Sylnan fell to his knees, tears overflowing from his eyes, ignoring the lessoning pain in his chest. 

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦.

Sylnan shook as he moved back into the dark corner of the room just behind him, still on his knees, his wide eyes still fixed on Velrissa’s paling face, her last expression still etched onto it: an expression of pain, of fear. 

Of betrayal. 

“Y-You monster. . .” he muttered to himself, falling backwards into a sitting position and pulling his knees close to his chest. “How could you. . . how could you let this happen?” He buried his face into his hands to silence his own now muffled sobs, and quickly pulled them away. Blood stained his hands, still dripping down his wrists in places. He could feel its warmth on his face now as well, the splatters tainting him. 

𝘓𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘣𝘦𝘺 𝘮𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦: 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

Sylnan grasped the sides of his head, still shaking as he sat in the corner of the room. 

“Get. . . get out of my head,” he stuttered weakly through his own sobs. “I didn’t want this- I wouldn’t hurt Vel, I wouldn’t- you m-made me, don’t. . .” his voice trailed off, unsure of where he intended his sentence to go next. His words were quiet and weak as he sat there, unable to take his gaze off of Vel yet again. The stickiness of the blood on his hands made his hair feel matted against his head, but he didn’t care. His physical appearance was in shambles. He looked unstable, unhinged. Like a murderer. 

“I would’ve rather died,” he whispered, his voice almost gone completely. “I-I would’ve rather died than. . . than do this to her. To anyone. I- I’m not a killer, I’m not-” 

He heard the thud of a kick against wood, followed by the sound of the door downstairs opening, and a singular pair of footsteps. The former alone told Sylnan who was returning to the barracks. 

“No- no, fuck, Br’aad can’t- he can’t see- he-” Sylnan’s words were lost in his own muffled sobs as his feelings overtook him again. 

“Sylnan? Vel?” Br’aad called out from downstairs in his usual, chaotic tone of voice. “The others wanted me to come back to tell you something, where are you guys, I have news-” 

The dull thump of steps ascending wooden stairs sounded like a clock ticking in Sylnan’s mind, counting down to the moments where Br’aad would see. He would see what Sylnan had become, and what he had done. His heart pounded, growing louder and faster the closer the steps became. 

“He can’t, he can’t. . .” Sylnan stifled his sobs as Br’aad entered the room. He and Vel were on the other side of the room, with the bar blocking them off from the entrance. 

“Guys?” Br’aad inquired, walking forwards and rounding the bar. 

“. . . Sylnan?” Br’aad asked quietly, his voice hoarse as he took in the scene. Sylnan opened his mouth to speak, only for nothing to come out. All he could do was sit and stare, his eyes still wide, the warmth of his tears beginning to wash away the blood caked onto his cheeks. He gripped the sides of his head still as Br’aad looked on in horror. 

Br’aad’s voice broke as his eyes filled with tears, the scene in front of him overwhelming. “S-Sylnan, w-what happened??” 

The sound of Br’aad’s voice made Sylnan break down all over again, loud sobs escaping from his lips and filling the room. After a moment, Sylnan found the strength to speak. 

“I-I didn’t mean it. . .” he paused for a moment, his breathing heavy. “B-Br’aad, you have to believe me, I-it made me-” 

“W-What made you?!” Br’aad questioned, anger evident in his voice. He kneeled down next to Velrissa and gently pulled her closer to him, cradling her in his arms. “Wh- How- How the fuck is this not your fault?!” he shouted, trembling, tears falling down his face. 

“The v-voice!” Sylnan shot back. “T-The voice, the fucking- the thing in my arm, it. . . it wants death, it wants to be fed. I-it's been talking ever since I came back,” he stuttered uncertainly. “I d-didn't. . . I don’t want to hurt anyone!” His voice shook away, devolving into no more than shaken cries. It was more than evident he was telling the truth. 

“Why didn’t you- why didn’t you say anything?!” Br’aad exclaimed. “We could have helped you! We- we could’ve prevented this, prevented Vel-” he choked up again, looking down at the fallen tiefling in his arms. 

The pure anguish in Br’aad’s voice tore at Sylnan’s heartstrings even more so than before. 

“I-I’m sorry,” Sylnan stuttered weakly. “I-I don’t want this.” He stared at Br’aad, the broken half-elf cradling the dead tiefling in his arms, watching as he carefully closed her eyes and laid her down gently on the floor. 

𝘒𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

“Wait. . . no,” Sylnan whispered, his eyes darting downwards, his heart accelerating even more than before. “That’s not. . .” 

𝘋𝘰 𝘪𝘵. 𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘯’𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘬. 

“I don’t- no- no!” Sylnan exclaimed to himself. 

“Wh-what’s going on?” Br’aad asked, his voice shaky. He stood up and cautiously began to approach Sylnan. “Sylnan? A-Are you okay?” 

𝘓𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘴. 𝘏𝘦’𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

The purple markings up Br’aad’s arms flickered ever so slightly, so subtly to the point of where Sylnan wouldn’t have noticed without it being pointed out to him. 

𝘌𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

“Br’aad. . . s-stop, stop moving, don’t come any closer!” Sylnan exclaimed, scooting back as far as he could, his back against the cold wall behind him. He held out his arms in front of him, hoping, praying that Br’aad didn’t get any closer to him. “I-I don’t want to hurt you- please, Br’aad, get back, get away from me,” he pleaded. “I don’t wanna hurt you. . .“ he spoke in a quiet voice, pulling his knees to his chest and trembling as the warm flow of tears returned to his face. 

“You- you aren’t gonna hurt me, Syl, I-I won’t let you,” Br’aad said softly. He continued moving closer to Sylnan. “I just want to- I just want to help you, that’s all.” As well as he tried to hide it, it was clear Br’aad was scared out of his wits. Scared for his own life and scared for his brother’s sanity. 

𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘰𝘯’𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭.

The pale purple glow began to return to Sylnan’s left arm as he held his knees close to his chest. 

“N-no, don’t. . . please, please no-” he quietly pleaded. “Br’aad, back up, now, I-” he once again began feeling dizzy, his vision partly blurring. The light within his arm glowed brighter as Sylnan began to lose sense of himself. 

“Br’aad- BR’AAD!” he exclaimed loudly. Br’aad jumped at the sudden change in volume, and watched in horror as the irises of his brother’s eyes began to be overtaken with a purple glow. Sylnan grasped his head tightly, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head, trying to rid himself of the thing that was taking over him. 

“No- I don’t want to hurt him, please-” 

He fought a losing battle, however, and after a moment, his eyes, still fixed on the floor, opened, revealing themselves to be the strange, purple eyes of a stranger. It wasn’t the same sort of purple in his eyes that Br’aad himself had. This was something harsher, something evil. Something that was out for carnage. 

Sylnan wasn’t himself anymore. 

Br’aad watched as Sylnan’s grip on his head loosened, the fear in his eyes gone. He slowly raised his head from his hands, and Br’aad could properly see Sylnan’s face. There appeared to be no trace of emotion on it, no sliver left of the intensive fear he had felt before. There was only malice, malice within his eyes, within his arm, and malice within his heart. 

“Sylnan. . . ?” Br’aad questioned softly, his voice hoarse once more. “Sylnan, are you there, bud. . . ?” Sylnan’s eyes darted from the floor to Br’aad, and Br’aad could feel himself pale as they made eye contact. 

“I’m afraid he’s not,” Sylnan replied. His voice was raspier than usual, seeming almost like a low growl. He squeezed his eyes closed and looked down for a minute, shaking his head slightly. Behind his closed eyelids, his eyes darted around rapidly before they opened again, looking mildly distressed and once again staring at the floor. “Though he certainly is a 𝘧𝘦𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘺 one, isn’t he?” he spat. 

Br’aad took a step back in caution; he didn’t know what was about to happen. He glanced over at the blade on the floor a few feet in front of Sylnan. Br’aad had no intention to hurt Sylnan, but clearly the favor wasn’t returned. He just wanted to get whatever this thing was out of his brother. 

“What- what the hell do you want?” Br’aad stuttered, taking another step back. 

Sylnan looked up and cocked his head, once again making eye contact with Br’aad. 

“Death,” he answered simply, though the weight behind the answer was anything but. 

“Why?” Br’aad began, his voice shaky. “Why- why the fuck would you do this. . .?” he glanced down at Vel, tears welling up in his eyes once again. 

“He didn’t. . . he didn’t want feed me,” the voice answered in a threatening tone. “So I took matters into my own hands. And I will again.” Sylnan began to move, trying to stand up, but he seemed to be struggling almost clumsily with it. Using the wall behind him to balance himself, he pulled himself up to his feet. There was something so feral about him, from the way he stood to the way he breathed. The thing inside him was ruthless, angry. . . violent. And it wanted suffering. 

Br’aad met Sylnan’s eyes again, their uncomfortable, foreign purple staring back at him. It almost seemed as if there was something behind the feral anger that had overtaken them, something wanting out. Something that was afraid. 

𝘚𝘺𝘭𝘯𝘢𝘯.

“Sylnan. . . Sylnan, I don’t know i-if you can hear me, but I need you to fight it. Fight this thing, take control back, please Sylnan-” Br’aad pleaded. “You don’t want this. You don’t want to hurt me, and I- I don’t want to have to hurt you.” 

“I made a deal with him,” he responded. “He knew what he was getting himself into when he took it.” Sylnan’s eyes met the knife on the ground, Br’aad’s following. Sylnan lunged for it, and Br’aad followed suit, each of them trying to reach it before the other could. Sylnan’s fingers wrapped around the hilt and Br’aad scrambled back, the both of them now on their feet, and Sylnan armed. 

Br’aad held out his hands in front of him, cautious. “Sylnan. . . please,” he pleaded softly. Sylnan stepped forwards and tried to slash at Br’aad with the blade. Br’aad dodged the swipe and moved to the side, and repeated dodging as Sylnan continued. He didn’t want to use magic to fight. . . Br’aad didn’t want to weaponize his own abilities against his own brother. Until push came to shove, he would find a way to beat him without magic. There had to be a way. . . 

As Sylnan slashed out with the knife again, Br’aad attempted to reach up and grab Sylnan’s wrist. He managed to wrap his hand around it to prevent it from piercing his chest, but the movement of Sylnan’s wrist to the side caused the blade to sink into Br’aad’s shoulder. He winced in pain and used his free hand to pull it out of his shoulder, the other one still clasped tightly around Sylnan’s wrist. Their eyes met- Br'aad’s were wide and fearful, Sylnan’s were foreign and determined. 

“I-I’m sorry-” Sylnan whispered quietly. Br’aad’s eyes widened even more as Sylnan’s expression, just for that one moment, seemed to soften. It took him off guard, hearing his brother’s real voice, instead of the twisted one that had taken over him. 

With his free arm, Sylnan reached up to Br’aad’s neck and wrapped his hand around its front, the evil, iridescent purple glow of it reflecting back into his own eyes. Br’aad’s grip on Sylnan’s wrist loosened as he began struggling for air, coughing and sputtering as he clawed at Sylnan’s hand. Its grip around his neck was tight, and the longer he stayed there, the longer Br'aad was deprived of air. It was cold-feeling to the touch, almost freezing against his throat. 

“Syl-” he struggled, trying to find his voice. “Please-” was all he could get out as he choked. Hot tears streamed down his face as his sobs were stifled. He realized, as he was trapped there, that the knife was still held tightly in his other hand. His knuckles were white around its hilt as he grasped it. 

“𝘐’𝘮 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺, 𝘚𝘺𝘭𝘯𝘢𝘯,” he thought to himself. 

With the most strength he could muster, Br’aad reached up with the knife and brought it down across Sylnan’s chest. He didn’t stab him- Br'aad wasn’t going to let him die, not by his hand- he swiped across it, forming a shallow slash that would still hurt enough to hinder his actions. Sylnan’s grip on Br’aad’s neck loosened as he stumbled backwards, now clutching the new wound across his chest. 

“You little shit,” his voice growled. Sylnan fell backwards, now sat on the ground, leaned over and letting the blood that stained his shirt drip. His breathing was becoming more staggered the more he bled, and his face was paling. 

Br’aad stood, grasping at his neck with his right hand and breathing heavily. There was a red mark of a hand around it that was so cold it burned. In the rush of the adrenaline, he had forgotten the wound in his left shoulder: blood seeped out of it, but he didn’t care. It hurt, but he had more pressing matters to attend to. 

Br’aad approached Sylnan and pointed the knife down towards him. 

“I’ve. . . I’ve beaten you,” Br’aad stuttered. “Accept your defeat and- and leave my brother alone. H-He doesn’t deserve this, none of us. . . none of us deserved this.” 

Sylnan looked up at Br’aad and tilted his head, meeting Br’aad’s gaze. 

“Kill me,” he dared. “Go on, do it.” The monster’s voice was provocative in its low growl. Br’aad looked on in horror. In truth, he didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t going to hurt Sylnan anymore. Regardless of whether or not the person in front of him was actually Sylnan within his mind, it was still Sylnan’s body. 

Br’aad shook as he clenched the knife, keeping it pointed at Sylnan. “Wh-Why would I do that?” 

“Because. . .” he began, but his voice trailed off as something else seemed to grab his attention. The ethereal purple of his eyes flickered ever so slightly. He squeezed them shut and brought his bloody hands from his chest to his head instead. “Because. . .” 

𝘏𝘦’𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨.

“. . . Sylnan?” Br’aad questioned, his voice faint. 

“Br’aad,” Sylnan whispered timidly. His eyes fluttered open and remained fixed on the floor, brimming with tears. “I can’t, it won’t- it won’t let me out.” He looked up at Br’aad, his eyes’ shifting tones meeting Br’aad’s cool amethyst. 

“K-Kill me, please-” he pleaded softly. “I don’t. . . d-don’t let me hurt anyone else.” 

Br’aad looked down at Sylnan, watching as he fought. 

“𝘍𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘪𝘵.” Br’aad didn’t know which of them even said it. 

He turned the knife in his hand sideways and, with the flat edge of the blade, hit Sylnan across the face, knocking him out. 

~~~~ 

Sylnan’s head ached. 

It was the first thing he noticed as he stirred. It felt as if his head had been drilled into. There was that feeling, followed by, of course, the feeling that a knife had been raked across his chest, which didn’t help coupled with the original stab would. There was a numb sort of pain on his cheek as well. His eyes opened slowly, but his vision was blurry at first. He was slumped in the corner of a room, and as he tried to move, he realized his hands and feet were both bound with rope. 

“Is it you?” a voice from across the room spoke, which he immediately recognized to be Br’aad. As his vision focused more, Sylnan found that he was in the same corner of the upstairs room that he last remembered being sat in. The events that transpired between then and now were faint memories, but the glimpses he recalled were unpleasant. . . and then the shock settled in. 

𝘝𝘦𝘭’𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥. 

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳.

Her body had been moved, but her blood still stained the wooden boards of the floor below him, as well as his own hands. 

“Sylnan?” Br’aad shakily questioned again. 

“I-It’s me,” Sylnan replied, his voice almost completely inaudible. He sat up to the best of his ability, leaning against the wall for support for his now only slightly bleeding chest. He looked to the ceiling, keeping his eyes focused on nothing, and spoke. 

“Did I-” 

“Don’t,” Br’aad shook his head, resigned. “You can’t- “ he sighed, unable to find the right words. “Fuck,” he muttered. He stood up from his seat at the bar and tentatively approached the tied up Sylnan. 

“You can’t. . . you can’t blame yourself,” Br’aad spoke quietly. “You can’t control this, it’s just. . .” 

Sylnan took notice of Br’aad’s wounds now that he was standing closer to where Sylnan was bound. 

“Your shoulder. . .” he observed. “. . . and your neck, holy shit. W-Was that. . . ?” 

“It’s not that bad,” Br’aad shrugged them off as if they were nothing. “We both need healing. But you. . . you need an exorcism or-or something.” 

“What we need is a fucking burial,” Sylnan muttered. “Where is she?” 

“Downstairs,” Br’aad answered. 

Sylnan couldn’t bear to make eye contact with Br’aad. He wanted to cry, he wanted to sob and never stop, but his tear ducts seemed to have emptied themselves. 

“What do we- What do we do when the others come back?” Sylnan asked quietly. “How. . . how do we explain-” 

“Not- not now,” Br’aad answered, his own voice quiet as well. “It’ll still be a few hours, just. . . fuck. We’ll take it one step at a time, and. . .” 

Sylnan looked down at the ropes that kept him bound, chafing against his wrists. He had no intention of struggling against them. He felt he deserved to be there- on the floor, limbs bound together, rendered immobile. He couldn’t hurt anyone else that way, so why would he want out of it? From the ropes, his eyes then drifted to his left arm. The purple veins were dark under the skin, more visible to the eye than they had ever been before. Every now and then, a small burst of light flickered up one of the veins and vanished again, as if some energy was traveling through them. 

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I know th-that's not enough. It’s won’t be and it will never be. I would’ve never made this dumb fucking deal if I just considered the consequences-” 

“Syl,” Br’aad interrupted. “Right now, we just. . . we just need to focus. If we can get the thing out of you-” 

“No, that’s- that’s it Br’aad. You can’t. This thing, it. . .” Sylnan sighed. “W-We’re linked, somehow, and right now, it’s the only thing keeping me alive.” 

“I- What?” Br’aad asked. “No, that can’t be true, you’re fine, look at you,” he stated, looking at the bloodied, worn down Sylnan in front of him. When he had begun moving more quickly, the stab wound in his chest had opened back up, bleeding again. 

“I can. . . I can just feel it,” Sylnan reasoned, his voice hoarse. “I’m was dying, Br’aad. I-It brought me back from the brink, but that wasn’t going to keep me alive. Wh-When I. . . when it killed Vel, it started healing me, h-healing the stab wound from the orc. And now we’re connected, somehow. There’s- there’s no getting rid of it.” 

“How can you know that?” Br’aad asked. “There’s got to be 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 way to-” 

“This wasn’t- This wasn’t normal necromancy, Br’aad. I made a deal with a demon and it expects me to pay up. If not. . . “ 

“Well what the fuck are we supposed to do then?” Br’aad asked, exasperated. He began pacing absentmindedly back and forth. 

Sylnan sat in uneasy silence, with no viable answer to Br’aad’s question in sight. He was ransacked with guilt. It was his fault, he knew it was. He made this deal, he agreed to live on these terms. And now Br’aad was hurt and Vel was dead. . . and there’d be more. In the future, he would have to do it again, and again, if he wanted to survive. 

“Br’aad. . . if this. . . if this ever happens again. . . I want you to kill me,” Sylnan stated softly. Br’aad froze in his pacing. 

“You 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵?” 

“You heard me. I-I'm not letting today happen again- the moment I tell you that it’s going to happen, I want you to- to kill me. My life isn’t worth more than the lives of others, and this thing can’t be stopped. Do it- do it for Taxi, for Mountain. They- they shouldn’t have to deal with this.” He met Br’aad’s eyes. “Do it for Vel. Just- just promise me you can do that.” 

“Sylnan, I-” 

“Promise me!” 

“I. . . 

. . . I promise.”


End file.
